


I'm Gonna Hide My Eyes From Your Crimson Sin

by stayyfrosty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Gore, M/M, Serial Killer Peter, Sheriff Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayyfrosty/pseuds/stayyfrosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Stiles Stilinski was close to catching the infamous serial killer Peter Hale when he was kidnapped and introduced to the life of a murderer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Gonna Hide My Eyes From Your Crimson Sin

“Sheriff, we’ve got him in room five for you.”

“Is he ready?”

“He’s been there for three hours, Sir.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“All set, Sir. He hasn’t moved an inch though, most guys fidget a little, but this guys been just staring at the mirror. It’s creepy.”

“Well, I don’t want to make him to wait any longer. Give me the keys and keep the camera rolling.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Lt. Boyd tossed Stiles the keys before he walked out of the Sheriff’s office and closed the door behind him. Stiles took a deep breath, gathered the papers and made his way over to the interrogation rooms. The four other rooms were empty, Beacon Hills was a small town so it was not often that the rooms were filled, but the officers insisted they use room five whenever they could. Cops and their superstitions.

Stiles stopped in front of the steel door marked with a large black 5 and quickly straightened his uniform. He wanted to look his best when he took this man down. As much as his father told him it wasn’t about appearances, Stiles knew that for some people looks mattered a great deal and this man cared a lot about them.

With one last brush of lint off his shoulder he pushed open the door and strode in with confidence. Confidence was a must and although the majority of the time Stiles was confident, sometimes it was necessary to fake it. This was not one of those times. Stiles was one hundred percent sure in his findings and he was convinced he would finally make the man confess this time.

“Hello Sheriff, so nice to see you again,” Peter Hale drawled, “Too bad it was under these circumstances.”

Stiles nodded, “Too bad indeed, but hopefully this will be your last time in here.”

“Oh, why’s that? I’d rather enjoyed sitting here, it’s nice and quiet, the perfect place to think.” Peter motioned for Stiles to sit at the chair opposite him as he leaned back in his seat. His hands were handcuffed to the table so he couldn’t lean back far, but even chained he managed to look comfortable. He was wearing a dark grey dress shirt with the top couple buttons undone, so just a hint of chest hair could be seen. His hair was gelled back perfectly with not a single hair out of place. A pristine image was not uncommon for serial killers, so Stiles was not surprised to notice that Peter looked incredibly well put together.

Peter looked at him with a smirk, “Like what you see?”

“I’ll like what I see when you’re dressed in orange behind bars.” Stiles responded.

“Orange is really not my color I’m afraid, so I would like to politely decline.”

“I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you.” Stiles said.

Peter smiled and said, “Oh, tell me then, what makes this time any different from the last? According to my memory, and trust me when I say I have a very good memory, this is the sixth time you have held me here. Finally find something substantial this time?”

“Yes.” Stiles sat down at the table and spread out the multiple files.

“Oh, do tell!” Peter breathed happily.

Stiles smiled back at Peter as he pulled out the file he was looking for. He held it up triumphantly as he prepared to say the words that would surely make Peter confess.

“A couple days ago we got a call. Apparently a nice young woman saw you. She saw you kill those people.” As Stiles spoke he gaged Peter’s reaction, but the infuriating smile never left his lips. “I don’t think you understand. Peter, we’ve got a witness. With this testimony, I’ve got you.”

Peter sighed, but it wasn’t sadly. He sighed happily and Stiles shook his head. He would never fully understand serial killers.

“Sheriff, have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you’re happy?” Peter asked as he gazed at Stiles. “Maybe this was too cruel of me, but I just wanted to see that pretty smile of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked warily.

Peter responded with a question, “What was the name of the woman who called in?”

“Kelly Abbott.” Stiles said slowly, uncomfortable with how this was playing out.

Peter started laughing as he leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. “She always stays with the first letters. I told her one day it would get her caught, but she never listens to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles demanded.

“Kelly Abbott?” Peter shook his head. “Kate Argent.”

Stiles felt the files slip through his fingers.

“You’ve been played Sheriff,” Peter said with a big smile, “and it looks like you’ve got nothing on me now.”

“Do you happen to know where Kate Argent is?” Stiles asked fruitlessly. He knew there was really no point. Peter won this time and he was right, Stiles didn’t have anything. This witness was the one positive they had gotten out of Peter Hale’s case. Stiles was certain Peter was the man they were looking for, but he was too good.

“Come on Sheriff, you can do better than that. Why don’t you just let me go? You can’t hold me here anymore and as much as I enjoyed seeing you again, I do actually have things I need to do.”

“Like planning your next murder?” Stiles let slip angrily.

Peter laughed again, “I was thinking along the lines of grocery shopping. I really don’t know why you are convinced I’m the killer. It’s almost like you want it to be me. You have no evidence that connects me to the murders, Sheriff. I really hate to disappoint you, but I am not the guy you are looking for.”

Peter frowned at him, but Stiles could tell it was insincere. He could see the evil twinkle in Peter’s eyes.

Stiles gathered his papers and put his files into a neat pile. “Well Peter, don’t think for one second I believe you. I know you killed all those people and everyday I get closer to finding out how.”

Stiles stood and nodded to the mirror, “Lt. Boyd will escort you out.”

Just as Stiles was about to leave the room Peter spoke. Stiles turned around and found the man leering at him.

“See you later, Sheriff.” Peter drawled with a wink.

Stiles wrinkled his nose and left the room. Boyd was waiting right outside and nodded to Stiles as he passed.

“Tough one, Sir. You’ll get him next time.”

Stiles patted Boyd on the shoulder and gave a half-hearted nod, “Sure.”

Once Stiles was back in his office with the door closed, he glanced at the clock and deflated in his seat when he saw he was supposed to be working for three more hours. It was nearing the end of a twelve-hour shift and he was exhausted. The next three hours he spent catching up on his paperwork and decidedly not thinking about the Hale case.

*

As Stiles lay in bed that night his thoughts drifted to Peter Hale. Peter Hale had been in his life for about a year now. Of course Stiles didn’t see Peter often, only when he was originally suspected and then just a smattering of times in the interrogation room, but each time they met Peter left quite the impression.

This time was no different than the last. Every time Peter flirted openly with Stiles, either sincerely or not, and every time Stiles ignored it. Objectively he knew Peter was a very attractive, albeit older man, but he was not one to engage in any type of relationship with a suspect. Not to mention a serial killer.

Of course he ignored Peter while he was working, but in the shadows of the night he let his mind wander.

It was funny. Many people assumed he became a cop to follow in the steps of his father, but truthfully it was because it was the better of two choices he was given. A well-kept secret in the Stilinski family was that when Stiles was young, around 15 or so, he struggled. He struggled to not fantasize about burning down houses. He struggled to resist the overwhelming urge to blow up cars. He struggled to not think about what would happen if he slowly drew the sharp edge of a knife over his neighbor’s throat.

One little slip and Stiles’ father put him in therapy. That helped some, Stiles took meds to curb his overactive imagination, but on his 18th birthday he made a mistake. He drank too much with his buddy Scott, Scott passed out, and Stiles got bored. Instead of doing what his therapist had instructed him to do, he decided one night wouldn’t hurt. His drunken mind convinced him he wouldn’t get caught.

He got caught.

By his father no less.

His father first and Sheriff second, Stiles was given two choices. He could either stop this nonsense immediately and join the force or he could get a one way ticket to jail.

The choice was obvious.

Ten years later and Stiles had taken over Sheriff after his father had retired. The youngest and best Sheriff the town had ever had. During the day Stiles was diligent, patient, and the best cop one could hope for, but when night fell he allowed himself the pleasure of delving into the darkest crevices of his mind.

Tonight he tucked away all thoughts of what was right or wrong and pictured himself standing by Peter. He imagined them soaked in blood, gazing at the husband and wife they had just killed together. Stiles would be holding a dripping knife that he had used to slice the man’s chest open and Peter would be wiping down his own knife. The knife he would have used to cut the woman’s throat.

Stiles shuddered as his imagination took control. The images appeared so sharply in his mind he could almost taste the heavy stench of blood that would surely be coating the air.

Peter would lean over to Stiles and with his clean hand he would gently wipe away the flecks of red that had splattered over Stiles’ face.

Peter would whisper, “So beautiful,” against Stiles’ lips before pressing forward lightly. They would kiss hurriedly before cleaning up the scene, making sure to leave no trace of their presence.

A loud knocking at the front door jolted Stiles out of his fantasy. He scrambled out of his bed and stumbled to the door. He jerked it open, ready to bitch out whoever had interrupted him, everyone knew his shift schedule so there was no excuse to wake him. Unless it was for an emergency of course.

Stiles almost slammed the down shut when he saw who stood in the hallway of his apartment. He reached for his gun, realizing too late that it was hanging up next to his uniform.

Peter didn’t say anything, he just grabbed Stiles and shoved a moist cloth into his face. Stiles tried to wrench away but his struggles were fruitless. Peter just clamped his arms around Stiles’ flailing limbs and held on tight.

As Stiles was losing consciousness he heard Peter whisper, “I know your secret, Stiles. I know.”

*

Stiles woke slowly. He groggily opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was sitting in the passenger seat of a car. The car was zipping down a highway. By the fading light outside Stiles guessed it was around six or seven. He rolled his head to look at the driver. Peter was sitting behind the wheel, calming watching the road.

“So, what’s your plan?” Stiles croaked. “Kidnap and kill the Sheriff?”

Stiles didn’t know why he wasn’t freaking out. It may have been the lasting effects of the chloroform.

Peter chuckled softly, “Kill you? Now why would I do that, it would ruin everything. Oh and before you get any ideas about escaping I should let you know that I actually do know the location of Kate Argent and she knows the location of your dad. She hasn’t burnt down a house in a while and she is getting antsy.”

“Are you threatening my father?” Stiles demanded waking up a little more.

Peter hummed and said, “Only if you try and escape.”

Stiles glared at Peter then wriggled in his seat so more of his body was facing the man. “So if you’re not going to kill me, what do you want? Is this because I am getting closer to solving your case?”

“It’s a little of that, but more of something else really.” Peter answered vaguely.

Stiles suddenly remembered what Peter has said earlier. “Why did you say I know your secret, Stiles? What were you talking about?”

“That is the something else,” Peter laughed, “But don’t worry, I’ll fill you in soon. I want to test a theory of mine first. I’ve had it for awhile now and I’m done speculating. I am dying to find out the answers.”

Stiles huffed out an annoyed breath, “Where are we going?”

“Patience my dear,” Peter said cheerfully.

Stiles turned his attention away from Peter to the road, cataloging the turns and roads they took in an effort to figure out where they were and where they were headed. He didn’t recognize any of the signs, so he must have been passed out for awhile.

“Do you mind?”

Stiles looked over to see Peter gesturing at the radio.

“Do you care?” Stiles asked.

Peter frowned, “Of course. I care tremendously about what you want.”

Stiles snorted disbelievingly, “Then let me go and stay away from my father.”

“Now that is something I can’t do, would you like to try again?” Peter asked smugly.

“Fine, whatever. Play your stupid music. I bet you listen to jazz or something from the way you dress.”

Peter glanced at Stiles slyly, “You’ve thought about how I dress?”

Stiles flushed and turned his face to the window. “Shut up and put your damn music on.”

Peter chuckled quietly but didn’t say anything. He flipped on his music and Stiles snorted again. He shot Peter a look, but the older man was just nodding his head along with the song.

*

Two hours or so later they pulled into a motel parking lot.

“Don’t even think about it,” Peter warned as he parked the car and they walked into the main office to check in.

As soon as they got into the lobby Stiles immediately looked towards the main desk. Of course he had gotten training to deal with situations like this and one of the first steps was to try and subtly alert a person near by. Peter was standing right beside him so it would be hard, but Stiles wasn’t the youngest sheriff for no reason.

As soon as they got to the main desk Stiles knew it would be pointless to try and communicate with the receptionist. An elderly woman who looked as though if someone were to touch her she would crumble into dust was sitting behind the high desk.

She looked up at them slowly and stared at them with cloudy eyes.

“One room please.” Peter told her sweetly.

The woman’s voice sounded like sandpaper, “$30 for a night.”

Peter gave her the money and took the keys from her ashy hand, “Thank you Berta.”

Stiles whipped his head to Peter and saw him smirking. As soon as they excited the main building Stiles pointed his finger accusingly at Peter.

“You knew that old woman would be there! You knew I would be trying to alert her that you’ve kidnapped me!”

Peter chuckled and smiled at Stiles, “I’m an intelligent man Stiles, please don’t forget that.”

When Peter opened the trunk of the car he tossed Stiles a blue duffel bag. Stiles noticed he owned the same bag as he caught it.

“I have the same bag.”

Peter just smiled at him as he took out another bag.

“Why do you need two bags? How much did you bring?” Stiles asked. “How long are you planning this trip to take?”

“I don’t know yet, it all depends really,” Peter offered vaguely, “and that blue bag is yours.”

“What?” Stiles unzipped the bag quickly to find the bag stuffed full of his own clothes. “How did you get these!?”

Peter shot Stiles a disappointed look.

Stiles sighed, “Oh right, never mind.”

Stiles zipped the bag back up as they made their way over to the room. Once they had settled down in the dingy room, Stiles flicked on the small T.V.

“It hasn’t been 24 hours yet.” Peter said.

“What?” Stiles asked confused.

“You won’t be on the news yet.” Peter smiled

“Oh, I wasn’t looking for that.”

Peter kept smiling at him, “Of course not.”

“Shut up okay.” Stiles snapped. “I’ve been kidnapped I think I deserve to wonder if someone has noticed i’m missing yet.

“Of course, my apologies,” Peter said, “Well, we are getting an early start tomorrow so I am going to sleep.”

Stiles flicked off the T.V andsettled down into his bed trying not to think about all the things that may have happened in it. Peter turned off the lights and the room was plunged into darkness. Stiles could hear him shuffling into his bed and Stiles was immensely grateful that there were two beds instead of one.

Stiles tried to stay awake, thinking he could sneak out while Peter was asleep. Stiles almost scoffed at how lenient Peter was being with him, was he really so confident in his threats? If Stiles left soon he could steal Peter’s car, drive to the nearest gas station and ask directions back to Beacon Hills. All he needed to do was stay awake until Peter had gone to sleep.

Stiles tried his hardest to stay conscious, he knew this would probably be one of his only chances to escape, but the events of the day had left him exhausted. Despite his desperate attempts to stay awake, Stiles feel asleep.

When Stiles woke up the room was still pitch black. He tried to figure out what had woken him then cursed himself for falling asleep. Luckily Peter was probably asleep by now, so Stiles silently slipped out of bed, felt around for his duffle bag in the dark and crept to the door. He slowly pried open the door and slipped out into the cool night air. He sighed in relief as he quickly made his way over to Peter’s car.

Stiles let out a muffled scream as a hand secured itself onto his mouth. He was drawn up against a warm chest as a large arm wrapped around his waist.

“I warned you, Stiles,” Peter whispered into his ear, “If you run you father is good as dead.”

Stiles tried to twist his way out of Peter’s grasp, but it just ended up with Peter tightening his grip hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Now, I know you thinkI’m stupid or something, but really Stiles, how do you think I killed all those people and got away with it? Come on now, you’re better than this” Peter’s breath was hot against Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles squirmed again and smiled triumphantly when Peter loosed his grip.

“Please stop wriggling, I don’t think you understand the effect you have on me, and I don’t think you are quite ready for it.” Peter said slightly strained. 

Stiles froze and Peter chuckled, “Let’s get you inside, shall we.”

Peter dragged Stiles back into the room and sat him down on the bed. It was still dark, so Stiles couldn’t see anything but he could hear the clink of metal.

“What are you-” Stiles gasped when he felt  cold metal on his right wrist. He tried to wrench it away, but found himself handcuffed to the bed.

Peter’s voices came from right next to him as he whispered, “Boys who misbehave get punished. Next time don’t run and I won’t have to cuff you. Although, I do really enjoy you like this, so maybe you could think about trying to escape every once in awhile.” Even though it was dark Stiles could tell Peter was smirking, it seemed to be his default expression.

Once Stiles had laid down againhis normal night time fantasies started to slink into his brain and the heavy feeling of the cuffs did nothing to help. He tried to fight them off, but his struggle was useless. In moments his mind was filled with vivid images and he started to shift in his bed.

Peter coughed quietly and Stiles froze.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account. Keep going.” Peter said.

“What?” Stiles croaked in disbelief.

Peter’s voice was soothing as he spoke, “Don’t be afraid of them Stiles, never be ashamed of your amazing imagination.”

Stiles was still frozen as he asked quietly, “How do you know?”

“I know many things about you, Stiles,” Peter drawled, “Now, enough chatter. Please just forget about me and let your mind take control.”

Stiles tried to resist, but the offer was too tempting. Within moments he was immersed in a fantasy. It was Peter and him. They were walking down an empty street. It was overcast, but the temperature was comfortable.

They were walking past identical white houses, with identical green lawns and identical picket fences. As they walked Stiles could hear music playing in the distance. They didn’t speak, just kept walking down the empty street. The music got louder and louder until it became apparent which house it was coming from.

Peter and Stiles both stopped at the house. Silently turning to the nondescript building that wasn’t unique in anyway except for the music blaring through the open windows. Stiles could see blue curtains fluttering with the gentle breeze that filtered through the air.

Without speaking they moved towards the house, opening the fence gate and making their way up the little pathway.

The music, so loud, was obviously something classical. Maybe Mozart, maybe Bach, Stiles couldn’t tell.

When they reached the door Peter knocked.

Not surprisingly, no one answered. The music was too loud for anyone inside to hear.

It was perfect.

Stiles slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. A pouch that held all his lock picking tools. He made quick work of the lock and within minutes the door was swinging open on silent hinges.

They pushed inside, moving fast. Stiles took a second to assess what was happening before lashing and striking with a knife. They screamed of course, they always do, but the music drowned out their wails.

It was all a blur and Stiles didn’t snap out of it until Peter gently touched his arm. He took a deep breath and analyzed the scene. They were in the living room. The furniture had been pushed back to create an open space in the center. Stiles supposed they must have been dancing.

The two figures were laying on the wooden floor with their dark red blood seeping out around them, oozing into the cracks of the floorboards.

Stiles turned to Peter and smiled.

Peter smiled back.

Stiles watched as Peter knelt down beside the bodies and dipped his finger into the shallow pool of thick blood. He stood back up, then slowly walked to Stiles until they stood inches apart.

Peter brought his bloody finger up and ever so gently traced Stiles’ lips, painting them red.

Stiles barely had time to take a breath before they were kissing, Peter holding Stiles’ cheeks with his hands as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. The blood made the kiss slippery and within moments their mouths were both smeared in red.

Stiles gasped when he was suddenly torn from his fantasy. He blinked in surprise against the darkness of the hotel room as he got his bearings back. Still cuffed to the bed, Stiles wrenched himself into a sitting position.

“Wha?” He muttered trying to figure out what had spurred him from his thoughts.

He jerked back when he felt a soft puff of breath on his face.

“Easy now Stiles,” Peter chuckled, “Sorry to disturb you, but it seemed like you were having too much fun without me.”

It was too dark to see, but Stiles felt the bed dip as Peter settled down next to him.

“Tell me Stiles,” Peter whispered, “Tell me what was unfolding in your beautiful mind. Let me enjoy it too.”

The cover of darkness had too much of an effect on him and he was sure he would look back on this in the morning and wonder what the hell he was thinking, but right now he wanted nothing more than to share his fantasy with Peter.

“I was, I mean, we were…” Stiles paused hesitantly, but continued when Peter said nothing. Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that Peter wasn’t surprised that he was included in the fantasies and although that thought unnerved him, he shrugged it aside for now. He would find out how Peter knew about it later.

“We were walking down this street, and…and we came upon this house playing music. I don’t… we went into the house and-” Stiles stopped talking and nervously licked his lips. Was he really going to do this? He was the Sheriff for fucks sack, he couldn’t just admit to a serial killer that he imagined them killing together. 

“Come on Stiles, tell me,” Peter purred, “Tell me darling.”

Stiles froze when he felt Peter touch his cheek.

“We…” Stiles stopped again, fighting an internal battle.

Peter hummed and softly brought their foreheads together before whispering, “Please.”

Stiles felt himself give in to the darkness, to Peter.

“We killed them.,” Stiles said quietly. “We walked into the house playing music and we stabbed the husband and wife. We killed them.”

“We killed them together,” Peter breathed.

Stiles reached out his free hand to grip Peter’s shirt, trembling slightly, “Yeah.”

“You did so good Stiles,” Peter said tenderly, “Thank you for telling me.”

Stiles just nodded his head waiting for the feeling of disgust and self-loathing that was sure to come after admitting he had been imagining stabbing someone to death, but instead he felt light. His head felt clear and although his hands shook a little he didn’t feel anything but calm. 

Stiles felt Peter’s fingers come up and detangle his own from Peter’s shirt. Peter shifted off the bed, but not before murmuring in Stiles’ ear, “Sleep Stiles, you’ve been so good. Now it’s time to sleep.”

*

When Stiles awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer handcuffed to the bed. The second thing he noticed was that Peter was not in the room.

Not wanting to get handcuffed to anything again soon Stiles just hopped into the shower to clean up. As he was showering memories of the previous night started to trickle in.

He blushed deep red and cursed himself for breaking so quickly. How would he face Peter now? He had lost his upper hand last night, but now that he was thinking about it, he had lost the upper hand a long time ago.

Now in the light of day, Stiles could not believe he had told Peter his fantasies. Right now, more than ever, he hated his overactive imagination. Stiles cursed himself again, then finished up in the shower, not wanting to prolong the inevitable. 

When he walked back into the room he saw Peter sitting at the small desk looking at him. Stiles blushed when he saw Peter drag his eyes slowly over his almost naked body and tightened his grip on the thin towel that was wrapped around his hips.

“Good Morning, Stiles,” Peter greeted happily with a smile.

Stiles ignored him in favor of grabbing some clothes from his duffel bag and scampering back into the bathroom to change.

When he came back out again Peter hadn’t moved. He still sat leering joyfully at Stiles.

“What?” Stiles snapped.

“I think it’s time you and I had a chat, don’t you think?”

“I think you should let me go, stop threatening my dad, and forget that any of this ever happened,” Stiles said annoyed, “Here, I won’t even charge you for kidnapping me! We can just both forget this little adventure has even occurred!" 

Peter laughed and apparently did not dignify Stiles’ outburst with a response, since he just leaned forward to pat the bed in front of him. “Sit down Stiles, so we can talk about a few things.”

Stiles didn’t move.

Peter shrugged at him as he pulled out his phone and started to fiddle with it, “I’m not saying you have to do everything I say Stiles, just... you don’t want your dad to get hurt, right?”

“Fuck you,” Stiles spat as he walked over to the bed and sat down.

“There’s a good boy,” Peter smirked, “Now, let’s talk.”

When Peter didn’t say anymore Stiles made a hurry up gesture.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” Peter laughed.

Stiles glared at the man angrily, “You are one infuriating bastard.”

“Now now Stiles, I was just finding the best place to start. Well, I guess I should start by saying I know all about your, what do you call them, ...fantasies,” Peter explained, “ I know you have a  powerful imaginationand almost no control over yourself once it becomes dark outside. You think the night shields you from reality, Stiles.”

“What the f-” Stiles started to exclaim, confused and angered that Peter knew about his darkest secret.

Peter interrupted him,“Let me finish,” Peter said simply, “I know that you imagine me with you in these fantasies. I know that, in your mind, we kill together. I know everything Stiles,” Peter paused and lowered his voice, “You can’t hide from me.”

Stiles was shaking and he hated himself for it. He was the sheriff. He should not break this easily.

Peter was watching him with an assessing eye, “Would you like to know how I know?”

Stiles nodded his head.

Peter paused for a second before smirking and saying, “You talk in your sleep.”

Stiles stared at Peter letting his words soak in. For a couple moments he felt numb as he did nothing but stare, but the moment he grasped Peter’s meaning his body went cold.

Stiles recoiled from Peter like he had been struck, “You’ve been in my room while I’ve been sleeping?”

“You’ve been so good to me, describing in such good detail what we’ve been doing together.” Peter whispered and Stiles barely heard him over the roaring in his ears. Peter had been watching him sleep. Peter Hale, a serial killer, had broken into his house at night and sat in his room, watching him. Stiles’ skin crawled as he thought about it.

“What do you want from me?” Stiles asked. How had he ever thought he had the upper hand? Even during the interrogations Peter had been playing him like a fucking violin.

“I can’t tell you now, it’s too soon,” Peter murmured, “Too soon, but I can show you something. Yes, I can show you something you’ll never forget. They always say you remember your first.”

Peter’s voice was soft and it drew Stiles in, “My first what?”

Peter shook his head, “Patience, my dear,” and pulled out a cloth from his pocket.

Stiles seemed to instinctively know what was about to happen and scrambled off the bed, but Peter was too fast. A strong arm wrapped around his body and pulled him flush to Peter’s chest. 

“What did I say, Stiles,” Peter breathed into Stiles’ ear, “Don’t run from me.”

The cloth was suddenly on Stiles’ mouth and it wasn’t long before his vision started to fade.

*

When Stiles woke up he could hear whimpering. He tried to open his eyes, but found he couldn’t. Well he could, but something was blocking his vision. He could tell he was strapped to a wooden chair with his wrists bound behind him. He struggled against his restraints.

Surprisingly he wasn’t gagged.  

“Hello?” He asked and he heard the whimpering grow louder.

“Is someone there?” He asked fruitlessly, “I’m with the police don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here.” 

“Now Stiles, didn’t your parents ever teach you not to make a promise you can’t keep?”

Gentle hands untied the blindfold and Stiles blinked against the bright light.

Peter stood directly in front of him smiling, “Are you ready, Stiles? I promise this will be good for you.”

Peter stepped to the side and reviled the source of the whimpering. A man sat across the unfamiliar room from Stiles with his mouth gagged, his eyes were wide with terror.

“Let him go Peter!” Stiles tried.

Peter smiled at Stiles then turned to speak to the whimpering man, “He says that now, but just you wait. He won’t be able to resist for long.”

“What are you going to do?” Stiles asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer, “You can’t hurt him in front of me, Peter, if you do I’ll finally have proof to arrest you.”

“Can you arrest yourself?” Peter asked turning back to face him.

Stiles gave him a confused look, “What?”

“I have no doubts you will be participating in this one way or another.” Peter told him.

“I won’t,” Stiles said with fake confidence.

Peter walked over to him before he leaned down. He brought his mouth to Stiles’ ear and whispered, “You will.”

*

Peter started off slow. He used a small sharp knife to cut just deep enough to draw blood, nothing major, but soon little seeping cuts covered the man’s visible skin.

Stiles was frozen in his seat. Right before his eyes, his fantasies were coming to life, and he had no idea what to do. He knew he should be struggling to escape, to free this innocent man, act like the goddamn Sheriff he was, but a quiet little voice in his head was telling him not to.

Peter was offering to Stiles a small taste of his deepest most hidden desires and the quiet little voice was gaining strength with every careful draw of the knife.

Stiles found himself staring at the man. He was no longer whimpering, but tears leaked from his tightly shut eyes. The man was so obviously broken and Stiles felt a small twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be the one who broke the man, wait he can’t think that… okay who was he kidding. He had freaking imagined doing similar things for so long now, he was only fooling himself trying to ignore his desire.

“Please” Stiles croaked, “Let me…”

Peter paused from where he was dragging the knife down the man’s cheek, “What do you want Stiles?”

Stiles struggled against the ropes, “I want, please just let me,” Stiles tried.

Peter stepped away from the man and sauntered over to Stiles, “Tell me what you want and I’ll untie you. I’ll let you finish him off, would you like that?”

Stiles whimpered. 

“Would you like to slice this knife across his neck and watch him bleed Stiles?”

Stiles whimpered again but this time Peter ordered, “Say it Stiles, say it and I will untie you." 

“Yes.” Stiles whispered barely audible.

Peter crouched down in front of him, “Yes what?”

“Yes, please, let me kill him,” Stiles almost shouted, “Please, I need-”

“Shhh, love, it’s okay.” Peter chuckled and made quick work of the rope.

Once the ropes had been loosen Stiles stood up shakily and took the offered knife. It was heavy and warm in Stiles’ grip as he approached the man. His eyes were open now and he started at Stiles with hope in his eyes clearly remember what Stiles had promised before. 

Stiles stopped right in front of the man.

He had two options. He could either whip around and stab Peter, save the innocent man, and get back to Beacon Hills or he could finish what Peter started and take the leap.

He knew that if he did step over that figurative line there would be no coming back, he would have blood on this hands for the rest of his life.

Stiles had decided even before he had started to think about it. Slowly he reached up and ungagged the man.

“Please, help me! You can’t do this! Please, don’t kill me!” The man screamed.

Stiles startled when Peter came up beside him then stepped behind the man. He cupped the man’s face and gently stroked his cheek.

“Me or him, Stiles,” Peter said staring directly at Stiles, “Choose now, Stiles. Me or him?”

Stiles was sure Peter knew exactly what he was asking of him.

The man yelled again, but this time Stiles was ready for it.

He crouched down in front of the man, unconsciously mimicking Peter, and tried to calm him down.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Stiles placated.

The man let out a soft whimper, “Please, you can’t let him do this.”

Stiles glanced up at Peter who was watching him with a carefully blank expression, then looked back at their captive.

As Stiles spoke the man’s face changed from hope to horror, “Oh, but I can. I really, really can.”

Without another word Stiles stood swiftly and sliced the man’s throat. Blood erupted from the wound and covered Stiles in the thick spray.

Stiles let loose a small hiccup of a giggle before he broke into a hysterical fit of laughter as he watched the blood gush from the cut.

He felt strong arms wrap around his middle and he allowed himself to lean back into the broad chest.

Peter and he stood just like that as they watched the life leave the man.

*

Stiles was sitting on his motel bed. He had just finished up his shower and was now waiting for Peter to finish his. By the time they had cleaned up, dumped the body in a nearby river, and driven back to the motel it was dark outside.

The drive had been silent, not even the radio had been on, but for the first time in a very long time Stiles felt at peace. A calm had settled over him as he stood with Peter and watched the red stains spread down the man’s front. It was like he had been dipped into an ice bucket and left to freeze.

His heart beat was even, his hands didn’t shake, and each breath he took was steady.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he glanced up and had to hold in a sharp breath. Peter strode out in only a towel wrapped low around his waist, water trickling down his chest.

Peter smirked at him as he walked past and by the looks of it he knew exactly the effect he had on Stiles.

He slowly pulled on some clean clothes and Stiles tried not to stare too much, but his eyes kept flickering back to the older man.

Once Peter had finished dressing he turned back to Stiles and came to sit across him on the other bed. He didn’t speak immediately, he just gazed at Stiles softly.

After a moment he spoke, “I was right,” he said simply.

“About?” Stiles asked although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“I knew you would enjoy it.” Peter drawled happily.

Stiles thought about protesting, but after a moment he thought fuck it, “Yeah,” he breathed out honestly.

Peter gazed at him before speaking, “Why don’t we try two tomorrow? We could each get our own.”

Stiles felt heat suddenly expand in his chest as he nodded his head.

Peter grinned at him then got up and took a couple steps until he was inches from Stiles. He leaned down slightly and laid his forehead gently on Stiles’, “I’m so proud Stiles, you’ve done so good.”

Stiles blushed before smiley widely at Peter, finally letting go of his reservations.

Peter placed a finger under Stiles’ chin and coaxed his head up. Their breath mingled together for a moment before Stiles leaned in that last inch and they were kissing.

The kiss was gentle, chaste, and definitely not what Stiles had ever imagined, but he loved it.

They kissed for a couple minutes longer before Peter pulled back. Stiles whined deep in his throat as he tried to chase after Peter’s warm lips.  

Peter chuckled as he pushed Stiles down onto the bed.

“Sleep my darling,” Peter spoke against Stiles’ lips as he kissed him once more, “We have a big plans for tomorrow.”

Stiles nodded sleepily and by the time Peter made his way back to his bed Stiles was asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse my blatant misuse of laws and holding rules.
> 
> Title from Charlie Winston's song "My Name"


End file.
